


It's A Wonderful Life

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Wishes Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Dean has a moment and Billie clarifies things for him.





	It's A Wonderful Life

The whiskey burned as it smothered his tongue and slid down his throat, making the cut on his lip sting. It was a tiny wound, the least any of them had come away with and the least of what he deserved. Dean was used to bad hunts but when there were kids involved, he felt worse.

He hadn’t intended to stay out this late. He hadn’t intended to pick a fight with another patron and get thrown out of the bar into the mud, leaving him in a slumped heap by his car. Nor had he intended on walking the six miles back to the bunker or stopping by the bridge to watch the icy water rush through underneath.

One problem with drinking was how it allowed his mind to ramble. Dean had never been great at praising himself and he’d always been brilliant at putting himself down and tonight… tonight was one of the worst. Two kids were dead, two families grieving, all because  _ he _ wasn’t fast enough, or smart enough.

Drinking their faces into oblivion didn’t take away from the guilt churning in his gut or the way his own psyche tortured him with memories of all the other times he’d failed.

“Wish I’d never been born.”

He’d said it out loud more than once. No one had ever answered though.

Dean just about crapped his pants when someone did.

“Is this how a Winchester spends his downtime?” He turned, coming face to face with Billie, unable to stop the automatic roll of his eyes.

He couldn’t stop the way he stumbled backwards either. Billie grinned, shaking her head.

“I’d say how the mighty have fallen but -”

“I really don’t have time for your crap right now,” Dean growled, turning away from her and Billie watched him closely for a few moments. “Don’t you have souls to collect or something?”

She shrugged lazily, “Not right this second.”

Dean sighed, casting his eyes back over the river, knowing she could pick up on his thoughts.

“You gonna jump?”

“I’m thinkin’ about it,” he admitted quietly.

“Not the first time, huh?” Dean remained quiet, listening to the icy ground crunch under the reaper’s feet as she approached him, stopping by his side. “You know this isn’t how you go.”

His jaw clenched and he nodded. “I know,” he murmured, “it’ll be bloodier than this.”

“You really wanna know what this world would be like without you?” Billie asked and Dean scoffed, glancing at her. His breath plumed from his lips, warm in the frigid air around him.

“I already saw it. The Apocalypse world. Pretty fuckin’ grim.”

Billie chuckled, shaking her head, her thick luxurious hair fanning out around her. Dean narrowed his eyes, unsure what was so amusing. “That’s the world where you  _ and _ Sam were never born,” she drawled, “and you need to remember not everything is about you.”

A flash lit up the river and the landscape around him and Dean flinched, and he was alone the next second when he opened his eyes.

The water rushed, much as it had done before, and the sky above his head was still clear, filled with stars. Ice was beginning to form on the grass and ground with the rapidly dropping temperature.

Shrugging it off, Dean pulled his coat around him and headed home to the bunker. He’d bring it up with Sam but by now, he was used to Billie’s cryptic messages figuring themselves out in the end. All he wanted now was his warm bed, hopefully with Y/N asleep. There’d be hell to pay in the morning, if she didn’t just ignore it like all the other times.

It was still dark when he reached the bunker and he stumbled through the undergrowth, cursing the lack of landscaping. He really needed to get a weed whacker out there before the ivy trapped them inside. The door was heavier than he remembered but Dean put it down to the alcohol and managed to get it open, almost falling down the steps.

Inside, the air was chilly and a frown crossed his face as he realized none of the lights were coming on. Fumbling for the switch, it took a few seconds for the power to come on which worried him even more. The war room was empty, the library too and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust like no one had touched it for decades.

Panic quickened Dean’s pace and when he found the bedrooms empty of belongings or his family, outright terror became his main emotion. 

“Y/N!” he screamed uselessly, pulling out his phone. Empty signal bars greeted him and Dean snarled, hurling it across the library. “Not this bullshit again. Billie!”

The reaper didn’t appear.

Dean stood in the middle of the dusty books, unsure what to do. Last time, he’d been faced with an empty, dangerous Apocalyptic world; who knew what this world held for him. Billie had obviously granted his brief desire for non-existence and usually, that meant he needed to learn a lesson.

“Okay,” he mumbled, cracking his knuckles, grimacing when his stomach growled loudly. “Let’s teach me a lesson.”

*****

As expected, the Impala wasn’t at the bar when he finally returned, just as the sun was coming up. Dean sighed, watching the sky light up behind the dilapidated bar that only hours before had been bustling with life. Now, it looked like it hadn’t seen a customer in years.

Losing Baby on top of everything else frustrated him but he knew he had to figure out what sort of game the reaper was playing with him. Last time, it had been the angels dicking around, trying to show him what would happen if he didn’t say ‘yes’ to Michael. That wasn’t how things had played out in the end but Dean was wary of exactly what was happening here.

Was this the future?

Was this  _ his _ future?

What the hell was she trying to teach him?

The hangover from his earlier binge was starting to kick in but Dean trudged on, leaving the bar and walking toward the town. No cars passed him on the road and there was no noise from the freeway only a few miles away. Birds tweeted and coyotes yipped in the distance and with every step, Dean felt more and more unease settle into his bones.

He found life further into Lebanon; a few stores were open, but no cars and a couple of pedestrians. Everyone was quiet and went about their business carefully avoiding eye contact with everyone.

“Excuse me,” he tried to speak to an older gentleman who promptly ignored him and bolted. Dean frowned, stopping on the sidewalk and looking around. There was a cafe across the road, mostly empty, and he crossed the street, hurrying into the cafe.

“Take a seat, hun, I’ll be right with ya,” a female voice called out as he closed the door, the bell jingling noisily.

“Not from around here, are ya,” another person spoke and Dean jumped, prompting laughter from his voyeur. “Like a baby deer.”

Dean smirked awkwardly, meeting the eyes of the middle-aged woman in the corner. She was grinning, gesturing to the window.

“There’s a storm coming,” she informed him, an odd sparkle in her eyes, “big one.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, turning away and heading for the booth furthest from the other occupant. A blonde haired woman emerged from the back of the cafe, a bright red apron around her waist. She smiled, approaching Dean and pulling out a notepad.

“What can I get ya, sweetie?”

With a lack of any menu on the table, Dean glanced up at the board above the grill. “I’ll get a coffee and some toast?”

The woman grinned, scribbling his order down. “Coming right up, honey,” she announced and Dean reached out a hand.

“Sorry, I was just wondering… do you have a newspaper or anything? My phone’s busted and -”

Her shrill laughter made him pause and she patted his shoulder. “Oh, I like a funny one. I’ll getcha the paper.” Dean blinked in surprise, his gaze going back to the other booth - the woman was gone, nothing suggesting she’d ever been there at all.

“This better be some kind of fuckin’ joke, Billie,” he grunted, forcing a smile onto his face as the server returned with his coffee and the newspaper. Dean thanked her, taking the surprisingly thin tabloid, leafing through it as his drink cooled in front of him.

Every page was an obituary. Mass killings, uprisings - the date was the day after yesterday. This was the present or the present as it would have been if Dean hadn’t ever been born. Questioning the woman who appeared to own the cafe didn’t get him anywhere - she assumed he was hungover on moonshine and not the first confused young man to wander through her door.

He made quick work of his food, thankful that the almighty dollar still seemed to be a thing in this changed world. The only thing he was short on was information and without his phone and most likely without access to the internet, Dean had to get resourceful.

“Back to the nineties,” he muttered, approaching Lebanon library quickly, a place he’d only been once or twice, normally to pick Sam up or drop him off. The building was dark and empty so Dean slipped around the back, finding an easily breakable window.

Locating the microfilm wasn’t so hard - finding a way to power it was. The electricity seemed to be on, which was something in his favor but resetting all the breakers in the library was awkward as hell. Dean only found frustration at the end of his search; the articles on the microfilm were all the same brand of apocalyptic violence. The only new fact he discovered was the frequently reported vampire, demon and other monster attacks that seemed to become common knowledge around 2005.

Right when Dean should have been picking Sam up from school and embarking on the search for Dad.

What else was different? Where was Sam? Y/N? Anyone he knew?

God, he appreciated the internet on a whole new level.

Article after article about martial law being declared appeared on the screen, the decimation of the population making for interested reading while accompanied by the low buzz of the machine. Dean’s eyes started to ache and he turned it off, heading out through the door instead of the window.

Within an hour, he’d found a car, hotwired it and stolen some petrol. Lebanon was in his rearview mirror, although he had no idea where he was going.

Nighttime fell as Dean drove in silence, unable to find a radio station and without his beloved cassettes. His thoughts drifted to his brother, then to Y/N and his stomach churned. He’d been short with her, angry over a hunt gone wrong but faced with the prospect of a world without her, he found himself regretting his actions more than ever.

She was one of the best things in his life. He make sure he told her when he was back at her side.

A sign ahead caught Dean’s attention and he realized he’d been driving toward Lawrence. The town was a few miles ahead and he put his foot down, pulling across the city limits as the clouds began to gather in the sky and the temperature dropped.

Curiosity drew him to the house he’d once lived in, standing empty alongside other abandoned houses. The door was unlocked when he tried it and Dean supposed rest would be a good idea. One of the bed was still made up - dusty from disuse but he’d take it over the backseat of the stolen Ford.

He was asleep in minutes after he closed his eyes.

When he woke, the room was still dark and Dean got up, ignoring the growling of his stomach. He hadn’t eaten since the toast at the cafe and he was hoping Lawrence would have somewhere open to get food.

The center of town was busier than Lebanon. People seemed a little more chatty but still guarded - Dean left the car at the house and walked, unsure if a car was more likely to get him noticed. As it turned out, there were a few vehicles trundling around town, although they were all unkempt and rusted.

Food was easy to locate; answers, not so much. Most people wouldn’t talk to him; when he came across a huge wall of photos with missing people, he understood why. Whatever had happened in this world, Dean knew a lot of people had died and it seemed everyone knew about the things that lurked in dark shadows.

The library was abandoned but the inside was trashed. Dean search high and low for the microfilm or anything that worked but came up empty handed, growing frustrated when the power wouldn’t come on. He was close to giving up when he heard a sound, a high-pitched ringing that had him on his knees, covering his ears.

Windows smashed and Dean roared in pain, knowing exactly what was torturing him. “I don’t speak angel!” he cried out and the ringing faded to a dull throb in his ears, allowing him to remove his hands from his ears. He looked up, scowling at the ceiling.

“You don’t exist,” a calm voice said from behind him.

Dean turned, feeling a marginal amount of relief at the sight of Castiel. He was in the same vessel, which was slightly comforting, but the look on his face was anything but friendly.

“You are Dean Winchester. And this is not your world.”

Snorting, Dean folded his arms across the chest. “Tell me about it.”

“Your presence has caused an unfortunate ripple in this universe. I was sent to investigate before the King’s minions find you.”

“The King?” Dean repeated, twisting his face in confusion. “Crowley’s dead.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side, regarding Dean with those icy blue eyes. “Who is Crowley?”

Glass crunched and Dean turned just as a demon appeared, throwing itself through the broken windows toward him. With a warning yell, he drew his gun, firing at the demon a split second before the angel behind him tossed the creature back.

Instinctively, Dean flung his arm over his eyes as Castiel smite the demon, bright light filling the room for a brief moment. When he looked up again, the angel pressed two fingers to his forehead and Dean felt that unpleasant tugging motion in his belly that told him he’d just been yanked through space and time.

They were outside now, ankle deep in snow that clung to his jeans and Dean hugged himself, rubbing his arms along his shoulders. “Where the hell are we?” he asked, teeth chattering with his words.

Castiel didn’t speak, gesturing behind him and Dean turned, shuddering violently as he gazed upon three gravestones in close proximity to each other. The largest, in black marble with the American flag emblazoned at the top, stated ‘ _ John Winchester, 1954 - 1983, loving father, devoted husband’ _ . Next to it, the second was much the same -  _ ‘Mary Winchester, 1954 - 1983, beloved mother and wife’ _ .

The third was older, a little more fade in the lettering and Dean dropped to his knees, reaching out to trace his fingers across the frozen stone. “This is…”

“You,” Castiel stated.

Dean’s eyes were glued to the writing. There was no date, only his name and the short inscription  _ ‘grew his wings before his time’ _ .

“The Dean Winchester of this world died in the womb,” Castiel explained, his tone bored like he was reading a textbook and Dean was reminded of the Castiel he knew, the one who turned into his own person over the years. This angel was just another soldier, lacking humanity and empathy.

“What about Sam?” Dean asked, getting to his feet and glancing over at the other male. Castiel’s eyes darkened.

“Sam Winchester was the only survivor of the fire that killed your parents. He was taken and we didn’t find him until it was too late and it could not be stopped.”

“Stopped?” Dean pushed, clenching his fists at his side. “From what?”

“He was raised by demons. Without his brother, his family there to guide him, Sam had nothing to hold him back from the dark. He accepted his destiny in this world.”

“And Lucifer?”

Castiel shook his head. “Sam never broke the final seal. He took control and killed anyone who stood in his way. He is the Boyking and his rule is unchallenged.”

Dean’s jaw dropped as he connected the dots. “The King… you meant Sam?” Castiel nodded in affirmation. “What about Y/N?”

“You need to return to your own world.”

Grinding his teeth together, Dean glared at the angel. “Well then find Billie the reaper and tell her to send me back.” His only answer was a blank expression; Dean growled in frustration and pushed past the angel, heading for the gates of the cemetery. “So what, Sam killed Lucifer?”

“No,” Castiel replied, following after him, “Lucifer remains locked in his cage. Michael and Raphael are both dead. Angels… we don’t come down here anymore.”

“You’re here,” Dean shot back, walking out onto the road.

“Where are you going?” Castiel demanded, appearing in front of Dean who reeled back in surprise and growled with irritation. “You need to return home.”

“You know how to do that?”

The challenge was met with silence. Dean smirked and continued on, only for Castiel to grab his arm. “Where are you going?” he repeated.

“I’m going to find Y/N,” Dean replied simply.

“What good will that do?”

“She’s smart as hell and she can help.”

“She may be a different person to the one you remember. She won’t know you.”

Dean smirked. “Oh, I know,” he muttered, fondly remembering his first meeting with Y/N - she’d put him on his ass in ten seconds and he anticipated this Y/N being much the same. “Hey, guns don’t hurt you, right?”

“They do not.”

“Good.”

*****

No matter how many times an angel zapped him across the country, Dean’s stomach would alway rebel against the sensation. He was convinced humans just weren’t built for that sort of celestial shifting.

“Where are we now?” he asked, following Castiel down the darkening street. “I’m starting to feel like Scrooge.” Castiel glanced back with a confused expression and Dean shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“We are in Arkansas. The woman you seek is here.”

Dean nodded, looking around the deserted neighborhood. “Okay, well, I don’t see anything so -” A gunshot rang out and Dean turned, spotting something running across the street a few hundred yards away.

He took off, not caring if the angel followed or not, heading straight for the sound of a fight. When he turned a corner, he saw her, pinned underneath an invisible force with slobber dripping onto her face. His blood ran cold.

“Hellhound,” Castiel murmured, appearing next to Dean and making him jump. “She cannot hope to kill it.”

Dean growled in frustration, throwing himself across the fence and pulling his gun. He aimed and fired as he ran, hitting the hellhound in the side; the momentum forced the invisible creature off of Y/N and she rolled, looking up in shock at her sudden hero.

“Who the fuck are you?” she snapped, dragging herself to her feet.

The hound recovered, black blood making it easy to spot as it lumbered across the unkempt lawn. Castiel sighed and lifted his hand, giving Dean just enough warning to lunge for Y/N and pull her down, covering her eyes even as she struggled.

Blinding light surrounded them and Y/N shied away from the heat of it, waiting until it died off before she kicked Dean away, getting back to her feet for the second time. “What the fuck was that?” she snarled, raising her own weapon in Castiel’s direction. The hound was gone, disintegrated; but they never hunted alone. “You’re an angel.”

Castiel nodded, lifting one eyebrow as he glanced at Dean. “Yeah, he’s an angel but he’s a good guy.”

Y/N snorted. “I’ve heard that before,” she pulled down the collar of her shirt, revealing a burn mark that smothered her skin in red, “and then he gave me this. So I’m gonna ask again; who the fuck are you?” The gun was on Dean now and he raised his hands, palms flat.

“My name is Dean,” he said slowly, “and you’re Y/N.”

“Congratulations,” Y/N sneered, “and now you can tell me who sent you?”

“No one!” Dean exclaimed, lowering his hands.

“What he is trying to tell you,” Castiel drawled, shoving his hands in his pockets, “is that he is not from this world and he needs to get home. He seems to be under the impression you will assist him.”

With a derisive scoff, Y/N shook her head. “Yeah and I’m gonna buy that crock of horseshit.” Her lip curled upwards and she grunted, holstering her pistol. “I don’t care what your deal is, I’m leaving before doggy number two shows up.”

“Why are they hunting you?” Dean asked, stepping to block her path. “Did you sell your soul?”

Stopping dead in front of him, Y/N leveled him with a glare. “He doesn’t want my soul. He just wants me dead.”

“Who?”

“What’s with the twenty questions?” she demanded, shoving Dean backward; he stumbled but didn’t lose his footing or his determination. “I don’t know you, buddy and I’m not lookin’ to make friends.”

Dean grimaced, stubbornly blockading her again but before she could reach for her gun, he grabbed her hands. “I know you don’t know me but I know you. The Y/N I know, the Y/N I love,” she blinked in surprise, “isn’t like this. I don’t know what happened to you but I’m gonna fix it.”

“There isn’t any fixing it,” she replied sadly. “Wherever you’re from, you should go back. Before he decides you’re a threat too.”

“Dean!” Castiel’s warning was enough for both of them to turn, just in time to see the angel explode into a swirl of grace and dust. Behind him, dressed in a crisp black suit, a familiar figure emerged, smiling calmly.

Dean’s back straightened and he released Y/N, not noticing the way she’d gone stock still, terror on her face.

Sam fixed his eyes on his older brother and Dean felt nothing but evil coming from him. “S-Sammy?”

“You don’t belong here,” Sam commented slowly, his eyes sliding to Y/N, “and you should be dead.” He sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Guess it’s one of those days.”

“We need to get out of here,” Y/N whispered, reaching for Dean’s sleeve but he shrugged her off and Sam laughed. “Dean, he’s gonna kill us!”

Dean still didn’t move and Y/N turned, sprinting from the scene. She made it a few meters before demons surrounded her, holding her in place. Her horrified scream made Dean turn and suddenly, Sam was in front of him, the chilling grin still on his face.

“She’s not your Y/N, Dean,” he drawled, “so it’s not your problem.”

“Sam -”

“I’m not your Sam, Dean,” the boyking muttered, “and she is not your Y/N.” The grin widened, white teeth gleaming in the darkness; Dean shuddered, the visage of a predator on his brother’s face. Sam’s eyes flooded with black and he leaned closer. “This isn’t your world.”

Dean ground his teeth together, his fists at his side as he stared Sam down, those fathomless eyes searing into his memory. “I won’t let you kill her.”

“Why?” Sam hissed. “You don’t exist here. I grew up without you, without a brother. And this is the world  _ I _ created. Don’t you like it here?”

“Sammy,” Dean started and Sam sneered, mocking him.

“ _ Sammy _ ,” he laughed, “there never was a Sammy, Dean, because there was never a  _ you _ . You’re just a memory, rotting in a tiny casket, just like -”

The world shifted; Y/N’s screams disappeared and Sam’s face darkened, morphing into Billie’s. She smiled, tilting her head.

“ - you wanted.”

Dean shook his head, stumbling backward as Billie laughed. His heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline making him gasp for breath as he tried to process what had happened. The reaper watched him, arms folded across her chest.

“You’ve got more to live for than you think, Dean. The world, for all its faults, is better with you in it. The darkness that waits for your family on the other side of your existence is not something you wanna wish on anyone.”

Billie took a step closer as the clouds opened, sprinkling snow down onto them; she looked up with a smile and Dean shook his head, his breaths evening out.

“What, you supposed to be the Ghost Of Christmas coulda-been or something?”

Billie laughed, turning away. “No. I just know when someone needs a kick in the ass.” Her feet crunched across the frozen floor. “Go home, Dean. Your family is waiting for you.”

She disappeared, leaving Dean alone on the bridge, the snow thickening by the moment. He looked up like she had, squinting as the snowflakes clung to his lashes. Turning his gaze homeward, he started on, tugging his coat around his body.

The bunker wasn’t overgrown and Baby sat outside, already covered in a layer of white. Inside, the lights were on when Dean stepped in and the central heating was on full. Warmth started to thaw him out and by the time he’d reached the bottom of the stairs, he could feel his fingers again.

“Y/N?” he called out, wandering through the war room. She appeared a second later, her tired face staring at him in shock.

“Dean,” she whispered, running to him and flinging her arms around his neck, “where the hell were you?” Sam emerged from the library, relief on his expression. Dean smiled, holding onto Y/N like she might disappear.

“I got a little sidetracked,” he admitted, raising an eyebrow before glancing at his brother. “Heya, Sammy.”

“Dean,” Sam gasped, “we thought - you weren’t at the bar and you left the Impala and -”

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” Dean promised. “I just had a little light shed on a few things and…” he shrugged, cupping Y/N’s cheek and leaning in to kiss her softly, “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

Y/N frowned, shaking her head at him. “You weren’t an asshole. It was a rough hunt.” She sighed, leaning into him, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat. “Don’t go missing again or I promise, I will fuck you up.”

Dean laughed, wrapping his arms around her and flicking Sam a thumbs up. The younger Winchester smiled and nodded, thankful his brother was home unharmed. “I’m gonna get some sleep,” he muttered, waving as he turned.

“Night, Sammy,” Dean called.

“It’s Sam,” Sam retorted and Dean smiled again, cradling the back of Y/N’s head and kissing her temple.

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” he murmured, pulling back to look down into her eyes, “I promise, I’ll tell you everything.” Y/N smiled, running her thumb over his bottom lip; Dean grinned, leaning in for a kiss. “Just as soon as I’ve gotten a real welcome home.”


End file.
